


Death of a Fire

by Kara_Eclipse



Series: The Fall of the Stars [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 00:51:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kara_Eclipse/pseuds/Kara_Eclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curufin watches his father die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death of a Fire

Block, parry, dodge, thrust. The motions were endlessly repeating. Yet another wave of orcs appeared. More separating them from each other. It was taxing to fight not knowing that one of his brothers had his back covered, but that was something they had trained to do. He sliced his sword through an orc’s throat, and ducked under another orc’s sword. He tried to find his brothers or father in this chaos, but none were in his line of sight. After several long minutes he finally broke through the wave of orcs.

Looking up he saw him, his father. A flash of fire told him what enemy he was fighting against. He froze, his legs refused to cooperate, and his heart felt like it was in his throat. Grey eyes widened seeing yet another strike hit, and finally his body could move again. It didn’t matter to him though. His father was on the ground. ‘Get up! Please, get up!’ His mind begged. He raced across the distance to his father’s side, never noticing when his brothers joined him. Before he knew it he was falling to his knees, and trying to touch him. Desperation fueled him he stripped his gloves off and tried to staunch the bleeding. Nothing worked; his father was dying in front of him and there was nothing he could do.

He had hated and doubted himself before, but this instant took everything he felt and amplified it. One of the most important people in the world needed help yet he couldn’t do a thing. He looked around realizing that this was not the place to fuss over him. He tore a strip of cloth from his shirt, and pressed it against the wound he’s tried to stop the bleeding of moments before. Looking at the others he saw that they were doing similar with the other wounds.

After the worst of them were bandaged they carefully picked him up. Camp wasn’t that far away, and the healers knew to be ready for any who were hurt in battle. They made it partway there when their father asked them to stop. Confused they did, and gently lowered him to the ground again.

He glared at his oldest brother; it should be him supporting their father. After a long moment his father spoke. His voice was strong, not as strong as normal, but with those wounds it was stronger than most of their people would be. He felt a surge of pride; yes he was the son of such an elf. Strongest of their people as far as he was concerned. First his father cursed their foe, then he had them swear again their oath. Readily he swore again the oath. Silently he vowed that he would do what he could to avenge his grandfather, and any other deaths caused by the foe before they reclaimed their rightful possessions.

Then before any of them could do anything his father burned. Not with fever, nor as though someone had set a torch to his body. No he burned from within, his soul’s flame consuming his body. His brothers and he watched in horror and awe as their father left to the Halls of Waiting.


End file.
